The Beautiful Sorrows of a Fallen Pulsar
by thetrexthatcould
Summary: And whether the stars would admit to seeing you there, sprawled in the dirt, did not matter to you. "This is what I wanted to give you", you breathe, "The sky." She is quiet, but she grips your hand harder as she whispers, "Thank you for my souvenir, Clarke."
1. Chapter 1

The crackle of the rays breaking through the blinds makes a displeasing murmur leave your mouth, before you even have the opportunity to catch it with your hand. It is almost as if you can hear the mellow humming of their engine, making a slight noise each time they bounce off of the tiny dust particles suspended in the air, scouting their way to your eyelashes, where they finally lay to rest. You are not, nor have you ever been a morning person. Granted, you are awake, but you still keep your eyes tightly shut, prolonging the inevitable moment of having to face your daily responsibilities.

At first, you feel relaxed.

With your eyes still closed, you push off the comforter with your feet and sprawl across the bed, stretching and yawning as you do so. Curiosity and a minor feeling of anxiety taking over, you reach for your phone, checking the alarm. _A whole 20 minutes_ , you think to yourself. _Plenty of time to lounge_. With that, you put your hands behind your head and let your gaze fall on the ceiling.

You end up inhaling harder than expected, which viciously bites back in your chest and immediately feeds the throng of thoughts that scatter against the walls of your bones. It does not take long before they settle in your temples and begin that familiar drumming noise. You feel guilt, you feel shame and you feel embarrassment. You can feel your body pulsate with the sins of your actions and your procrastinations, which is enough for you to sit up and try to thrust that hitching breath out. The sound of your alarm scares you and all you can muster out is a _Fuck_ , before having to begin the morning ritual of getting ready for class.

The morning routine has not changed for years. Skipping breakfast for a shower, followed by brushing your teeth while sloping down on the edge of the bathtub. The reason behind this is the fact that you significantly prefer staring into nothingness, than having to face your mirror image, merely out of running the risk of accidentally catching the glimpse of what it is that haunts you. Once you are finished, you walk into your room and without paying attention grab a few items in order to get dressed. Jeans, t-shirt, sneakers and a hoodie- the almost stereotypical college outfit, except that your choices are severely mismatched. Had they not been, you fear it would have been a testament to you actually giving a fuck.

Before entering the hallway, you remember to grab your bag that is casually resting against your desk and you slip it onto your shoulder. With one hand firmly holding the strap, you open the front door with the other, turning around for a brief moment to say goodbye to your roommate, before remembering that Raven is more than likely sleeping through her hangover. And with that as your cue to leave, you walk through the door, mindful of closing it gently, before skipping down the stairs of the building.

As soon as you have crossed that threshold, the crispiness of spring cradles your face. You close your eyes temporarily, allowing the morning sun to trace its lines, burying itself in each weary crevice, soothing it the best it can. You try to keep your stride relaxed, fervently attempting to leave the morning dew untouched by the dash of rushing feet. You begin to feel the rattle between your ribs that you have become accustomed to. The weight of past decisions pushing down on your chest, as you become incapable of understanding how any of them could have carried such relevance, when in comparison to the vastness of everything, they seem insignificant. And before realizing it, you have reached university grounds.

As you enter the main building, located in the heart of campus, you hear a familiar voice call out your name. Immediately turning around, you witness Octavia bridging the gap between the two of you. "How are you feeling," you ask with genuine interest before adding, "You seemed to have more fun than anyone last night". You can see her lips swell from the smirk that nips at them, prompting her to blurt out, "You wouldn't know, would you? With you leaving early and all". A laughter manages to push through the rim of her mouth, followed by her quipping, "Fucking lightweight". And you know that you are caught.

Last night was your first drink in months, it being a desperate attempt at drowning yourself on the cusp of that whiskey glass. It worked for a little while. The warmth of the alcohol slithering down your throat, swishing around your stomach before ultimately settling there, making you sink even deeper into the couch that you were sitting on. By the fourth glass you had begun to feel ripples, tugging at your seams. Rising to your feet, you forced a smile before announcing that you are both too drunk and too tired, and would like to catch some sleep before class in the morning.

Octavia was the one that walked you home. You walked in comfortable silence. At times, you could feel Octavia's worried gaze fall on your profile. You were hoping that she would avoid asking about whatever it was that was burdening you. About whatever it was that brought upon an evident change in your posture. You were hoping that she would allow you to keep the gates to the deluge closed for a little longer. Suddenly, you could feel her arm sneak its way around your waist, pushing you towards her, tilting her head on your shoulder. Words being superfluous, you relaxed in her hold, knowing that this was her way of letting you know that she will be there once you are ready.

And now, you were standing in the hallway, her eyes tracing for answers to yet unasked questions. "You know that you'll be making sure that I get more practice before the end of this semester", you squeeze out through a grin, stopping her in her tracks. Octavia offers a nod before you part your ways, but only after agreeing to see each other later that evening.

Once you find yourself outside of literature class, you begin to feel annoyed at the amount of bodies that are stubbornly trying to push their way through the narrow doorway leading into the classroom. You do your best at avoiding being swept up by the mob, trying to enter the lecture hall as gracefully as possible.

You give the room a quick glance, searching for an open seat, before allowing your feet to carry you to the fourth row. Somewhere in the middle of it, you find an empty desk and let your body collapse on the chair. Other students huddle around you and take up the rest of the empty seats, as their loud cackle begins to lower to a barely audible whisper. A stout man, wearing a suit and tie, has entered the classroom. With one hand occupied by tugging at his beard, he uses the other to scribble down his name on the whiteboard. "I'm professor Chouette. Although, I'd strongly prefer if you would just call me Alfred", he says with an unvarnished smile.

You have already stopped paying any attention to the little man on the podium and have instead engrossed yourself with fidgeting and stirring in your seat, much to the appreciation of the students surrounding you. _What are these chairs made of? Concrete?_ , as you once more try to find a position that will make you feel comfortable. However, limbs are beginning to tire, fatigue slowly growing roots around them. You lean on your elbow, pushing blonde strands of hair behind your ear, letting your hand rest on the side of your neck. Mr. Chouette is walking around the podium, his hands animated as much as his face seems passionate. You catch him utter, "You are the universe, expressing itself as a human for a little while". The words resonate loudly, finding their way to you. They wash over you, pleasant and reassuring and you cannot help it when you grab mouthfuls of them.

With newly found resolution, you gaze over the rows in front, your eyes searching their way to that of the professor. But to your surprise, that is not where they land. Instead, they land on the ridge of a brown curl. Your eyes rest on the cascading locks, bothering her every time she bends to scribble down notes in her notebook. Her being equally stubborn, if not more, waving them off and sharply placing them behind her ear. You feel your breath snag, the jagged feel of it immediately making you uncomfortable. You feel as though you are giving her a disproportionate amount of momentum to mean something and therefore you quickly avert your eyes to the front of the classroom.

You concentrate on the professor's voice, whom by now is discussing "in medias res", debating whether or not that is the best way for an author to capture their audience. He scans the room and inquisitively states, "I would love to hear your opinion", as he offhandedly throws his index finger in your direction.

You are motionless. _There's no way he's talking to me_ , you think as you use your peripheral vision in an attempt to decipher whether or not you are the intended target, or if someone else, _ANYONE_ , will take it upon themselves to give an appropriate response. You establish that you have no such luck, considering the fact that the entire room is eagerly watching you, avoiding the very same responsibility that has now been given upon you. Intense heat is crawling into your mouth, leaving it completely dry. You are sure that, if you were to spit, you would spit cotton. You clear your throat awkwardly before managing to stutter out, "Yes… it is?", with the pitch of your voice going slightly higher than intended. The silence that follows feels tangible and all enveloping. The professor's gaze still unwavering, surely awaiting an explanation to your reasoning. _There is no fucking escape_.

And with that as your yielding thought, someone interjects. The boy sitting next to you is spitting words towards the podium, each one coated in incisiveness and resolve. Once he is done, he faces you, but speaks to the room, "I'm sure that's exactly what my friend here meant to say."

Whether satisfied with the provided answer or disappointed in you for lack of one, Mr. Chouette resumes the lesson. You roll your eyes with relief as your lungs thrust out a compressed breath, leaving them tender. You offer a silent _thank you_ to the boy, before turning slowly towards the front of the class, having learned your lesson. The lie goes down smoother than you thought, giving you courage to explore the same path you had hunted on earlier. Discretely, yet not discretely at all, you follow your gaze and give it consent to rest on the familiar curls from before. This time however, you are met by a pair of eyes, tenderly observing you. She hides her smile in the corners of her mouth, but the curve of her lips gives her away. For you, the world is suddenly shifting. A sense of wonder wreaking havoc within you. _What the fuck is wrong with me_ , you snap at yourself.

"My name is Finn", a voice says. You reluctantly turn your head in search of the source. The boy next to you is holding his hand suspended in the air and you wonder how long it has been resting there. You grab it gently, yet firmly and retort "Clarke. My name is Clarke". He gives you a smile and continues, "Well Clarke, if you ever need saving again, I'd be more than happy to help. But it will cost you! As I see it, you already owe me a coffee". A chuckle wheezes out through your teeth, curving your neck into a nod. "That's fine", you say, "As college students I feel as though caffeine is a building stone in maintaining our survival". A sense of agreement lingers between the two of you, and with that being more than enough, both of you turn your attention to Mr. Chouette.

But truth be told, if your gaze happens to tumble once more on a pair of brown tresses, you put no effort in stopping yourself.

Finally, the bell rings. Finn nudges you softly and gestures with his head towards the exit. Suddenly, he wrinkles his forehead and utters in jest, "Wow. You seem like you need that coffee right now". All you can offer him is a distracted dip of the head, as you fervently tower over the rapidly vacant desks. You grab your books as Finn leads the way to the end of your row, both of you waiting for the ideal moment to join the stampede currently headed for the narrow doorway. "Wait for me outside", the words bouncing off of your lips, as the boy joins the throng of zealous students, leaving no room for him to deny your request nor question the motivation behind it.

You feel nervous and your body language demonstrates it well. Your grip tightening around the books, pushing them harder to your heaving chest, as you continuously shift your weight from one foot to the other. _What the hell could I say to her anyway?_ And just like that, any courage that you might have had leaves your system in waves, propelling you towards the exit.

As you emerge on the other side of the doorway, Finn grabs your arm. "Took you long enough", he says mischievously, "Did you find what you were looking for?". You let out a disappointing sigh, hoping that it in itself is enough of an answer, before stating "Let's go. I desperately need that coffee, but double the liquor."

 _We are leaving. We are walking away._ You turn one last time, feeling angry. In part, angry for your lack of bravery, for your wavering resolve, but mostly for the steady growth of anticipation and hope that has now buried its talons somewhere under your clavicles and begun to nestle its way to your ribcage. Angry that it will end in the expected disappointment. Yet, once more, your world begins to shift.

Walking into the hallway, expressionless and unreadable, hair neatly tucked away, is **_her_**. And ever so slowly her eyes follow the path to yours, before locking securely into place. You feel high. All the weight from your bones has dissipated and been replaced with a drumming that is now rattling against the talons between your ribs. You know that you are both caught in a transient moment. So, before it has passed, you allow it to hook its harness into the ends of your mouth, tugging gently at the strings, arching it upwards. Her face is unchanging, but she does not look away until you do. You are almost in disbelief with yourself. _What the fuck are you doing, Clarke?_ Yet, you cannot shake off the feeling that it is too late to go back. Inadvertently, she has swung the pendulum with brute force and all you can do is hold on.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite there being a sense of monotony to your mornings, you profoundly enjoy its repetitiveness and predictability. You know that you have chosen a poor method of survival, yet you find consolation in it. As everything falls apart, it is comforting to have something consistent to lean on. A grateful person does not concern themselves with muddy waters, but are appreciative for the allowance of sinking their anchor and resting it in the dirt below. And so, your morning began like the previous ones: _The crackle of the rays breaking through the blinds makes a murmur leave your mouth, before you even have the opportunity to catch it with your hand. You have never been a morning person._

Yet, something has changed. Your morning is slightly different from the one before. The air around you feels lighter, almost. The ghost of a brown curl flickers in the back of your head, the spark being enough to set you aflame. Instinctively, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up, attempt to swallow hard enough as to drown the feeling. The weight of it parts your lips sufficiently for a defeated sigh to escape. No matter how big your effort is in feeding your denial, it has reached a culmination. In order not to suffocate on it, you allow the whisper of a thought. The secret that, even though she is not yours to get to know or pour affection into, her existence makes you happy. You stand up, leaving the notion to rest in your covers, as you begin your morning routine.

As you are about to exit through the front door, you hear a sudden, "Hey, asshole!" You turn around only to witness Raven walking towards you, annoyance and confusion following her closely, "Were you seriously going to leave without saying anything to me?". Last night Octavia had come over gifting alcohol, suggesting that slurring words and talks of the girl with the brown mane would make you feel better. It did not. And you certainly wanted to escape having the same conversation now. The irony lying in the fact that you were earlier embracing your repetitiveness, as you were now actively trying to avoid it. "I'm sorry Ray", you say sincerely, "I'll see you later" and track your words with an embrace.

Your walk to campus gave you enough time to repose into a stillness, weeding out your worries. You enjoyed it because, by the time you had reached your destination, the only indication of any amount of concern would be the dirt under your fingernails. You push through the wooden doors of the building, as you recognize the hand grabbing your arm, bracing yourself to greet Finn. It is not that you were particularly unhappy at seeing him, but rather the fact that you could not shake the feeling that he wanted more than you were able to give him. Besides, whatever you had was brittle, if not already broken.

"I'm expecting to see you tonight", his words filling the void between you, "I'll even make sure we are stocked up on coffee". In one fluid motion, he brushes the hair from his face to better meet yours. Your gaze falls to the ground with a quickness, almost as if the floorboards beneath you had come to life. There you were again, attempting to censor your existence. _One night won't change anything_ , you try telling yourself convincingly. _I give you permission._ And with that notion in mind, a breathy echo of a word was released, "Yes".

You arrive in front of Mr. Chouette's lecture hall. A wall of bodies patiently waiting to enter. Recollecting the previous times, you know that once those doors open, the bodies push and shove with extended elbows and open palms, squeezing through the threshold, leaving it bruised. Unexpectedly, you can feel the energy drain from your body, as your steps become heavier and slower. You do not know what catalyzed the influx of thoughts. Thoughts about Finn, thoughts about the girl with the brown mane and thoughts about your mother. The latter one being louder than the rest. Your mother has a _meaning_. And thinking about the fact that her pain is more of a side effect to life being a collection of random events, rather than the product of something bigger, hurts.

 _I can always run. Now._ The thought having its own sense of willpower, foraging through your temples, climbing below your collarbones, finding its way to your muscles, leaving them tense and sore. You turn to Finn to speak, but he is already observing you with a mixture of confusion and care. "You go in", you say as to shatter the silence and swallow its shards. You can tell that he wants to speak, but decides against it. And as soon as he disappears from your sight, you make haste towards the exit.

You only stop once you are unsure of which way to go, glancing in both directions, not feeling any more convinced than before. You stand on the concrete, hesitant, when you hear words being spoken in your direction, "I saw you leave. I hope you do not mind that I followed you, but you seemed very upset." You turn your head towards the voice, but instantly feel as if you have whiplash, once your eyes meet hers. **_The her_**. Her look is not one out of pity, but rather of the endeavor to comfort and understand. And it makes you feel that you just might burst at your seams if she were to reach out and touch you. She gives you time to process, before she utters again, "I can take you somewhere quiet." There is sadness coursing through your body, there is worry gushing in, but there is also electricity. A surge that pushes your mouth open and lets the word escape, "Please".

You end up walking next to each other. The silence is comfortable. However, the surrealistic feel of the moment makes you glance at the girl in repeated and frequent intervals, as if you are expecting someone to grab you by the shoulders and shake you. _Say something to her._ You find yourself searching for letters to click against your palate, but end up withholding each one of them. You do not have more time to reflect on it, as you end up hitting a bend, leading into a park. It being, by no means secluded nor empty, yet at the same time, precisely what you needed. And when she says, "This way", you wonder if she is the sole reason that this place feels absolute to you.

You follow her as she leads you to a massive, towering oak. You sit down, extending your legs and resting your back against its trunk. And the tree, as if knowing, lowers its threads, untying their ends and letting a protective atmosphere settle between each oxygen molecule. The air fills quickly, not leaving room for much more. You push your hands into the dirt under you, grabbing handfuls, as if the strands of grass are the only ones keeping you from leaping into the cosmos. You listen to the ruffle of the leaves and the creaking of branches, as they sway under the weight of the breeze. You almost convince yourself that you are able to hear the smell of the dandelions, their scent being intoxicating.

You release a breath that escapes in relief, having been biting down on your lungs fairly hard. You tilt your head to your side, letting it rest on your shoulder. Squinting through one eye, while the other remains closed and shielded from the sun, you take in the figure sitting next to you. Eyes closed and her head resting against the trunk of the tree. Her legs are sprawled in front of her with her hands resting in her lap, weighing down the dress from the rumble of the gust that adamantly tries to nip at it. Her hair is wild, turning its attention into whichever direction the wind takes it. You feel so much. You feel everything. And despite it being frightening, you think, _You are so beautiful_.

A steady, "Thank you", follows your thoughts. Her head turns towards you and through untamed tresses, her eyes open. She holds your gaze long enough to acknowledge your words, before she slowly closes them again and adds, "Anytime". You sigh into the warm spring day, as your mouth fills with all the things you want to say. Deprived of being spoken, they take flight, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed, "This means something to me". You have to make a slight pause, finding your bearings and weighing your words before continuing, "Your effort, that is. Your time invested in me and your empathy. It's not going by unnoticed. It means something." You close your eyes and stutter out, "So, for that, thank you." _That's not good enough Clarke. Look at her_. Peeking through warm eyelashes you find her tenderly observing you, and the flush from your cheeks finds its way to your lips that manage to push out, "Thank you". Her eyes, green and soft, follow the bend of her head as it dips down into a nod, "You are welcome". She makes a pause and adds, "Anytime".

The air around you is still. You clear your throat with a small cough, leaving enough room for the words to pass, "I have this odd coping strategy". You can feel her eyes resting on your profile, giving you courage to continue, "Whenever I feel as if I'm about to cry, I'll think of a random object, hold its image and repeat its name in my head". _That doesn't sound weird at all, Clarke._ Feeling slightly uncomfortable by your own confession, you clench your jaw and turn your head towards her. "For example, if I'm about to cry, I'll say to myself _apple_." You stir in place, trying to suppress the apparent embarrassment that lingers on your face, as you nervously tread on, "It's not exclusive to think of an apple. It can be anything. The point is, as long as I think of it and say it enough times, the need to cry goes away. I feel better. It's a distraction."

The girl inhales sharply, her eyes gentle. There is no judgement, but you can tell that there is a question that finds its way to the wrinkles on her forehead. You answer it before she has time to ask, "My mom is sick." The words are hollow and taunting. They ring with such a force that you instantly feel nauseated. You can feel the tears brimming, but it is not your place to feel sadness. _My suffering is the smallest of them all. Stop it, Clarke._ "I know it's not the healthiest of ways to deal with problems, but this is what I need for now", your voice hoarse and overflowing with all the things you do not allow yourself to feel. A hand slides on top of yours. She lets it rest there, weighing yours down, meant to pacify your qualms. It is warm and her fingertips feel plump with vigor. You do not move, because the feeling of her washes over you a thousand times, taking away all the aches of tomorrow. Your seams do not burst, but you feel as if something in your chest will.

You do not know how much time has passed, but by now the sun was not as warm, even though it still hung from the sky. When you finally decide to rise to your feet, she follows your motion, retracting her hand to her side. You fight the urge to grab it and hold it, with your chest stinging a little from the longing. You begin the walk back, the air around you thick, as if hundreds of conversations are taking place. Although, you do not rush your pace, it does not take long before you reach university grounds, both of you standing awkwardly in front of the gates. And it is there, standing rooted into the asphalt, that you remember and utter, "I never introduced myself. I'm Clarke". She smiles and you feel as if you have dived off a precipice and fallen into a warm interstellar cloud of dust.

"To think that this entire time I have been referring to you as Camus", she says and proceeds to clarify herself, "He is an author who wrote a novel called The Stranger. And you being one, led me to temporarily naming you Camus. But from now on I will use Clarke, whenever I think of you." You both go quiet as the last part of her words settles between you. She catches herself and adds, "I am Alexandria. But feel free to call me Lexa." _Lexa_ , the name bouncing off of the walls of your mouth, before accidentally rolling off your tongue and leaking into the space between you. You take a step back, slightly embarrassed that it was said aloud and slightly astounded by the amount of care that had also come croaking out. Yet, the way she is looking at you, fills you with valor as you bridge the gap between you and pull her into an embrace. "Thank you", you whisper. Her arms clasp around your back, "Anytime, Clarke."

"Holy hell. I mean, shit a brick and fuck me in the ears with it, because I have already told you that you look wonderful. Now, can we please go?" Despite Raven's playful approach, you are aware of the fact that you have been difficult to deal with ever since you agreed to come to Finn's gathering. To a certain degree, you were going because you had made a promise to the boy, but even more importantly, you had made a promise to yourself. Your exhausting attitude would be waiting for you to pick it up by daybreak. You looked down on your outfit, feeling unsure. You had put some effort in your appearance, but considering your prior and utter lack of interest, the effort was not great in comparison. Tugging at the sleeves of your jumper, a slight sound of defeat coated your words, "Well, it's the best I can do for now".

Without hesitation, warm hands soothingly framed your face, followed by swift words, "Clarke", she paused, "You look beautiful. And I'm also relishing in the fact that you are one small step away from having a social life. Don't blow it before it has even started."

By the time that you arrived, the sun had begun to set. The horizon enveloping it with its endless arms. Your feet were sinking in the sand, making you arch your back in a forward motion as your arms flailed awkwardly, attempting to thrust yourself faster towards the bonfire. You felt slightly self-conscious advancing on the huddled cluster of people, too engrossed in their conversation to notice you. You smelled the aquatic air that had perched itself on the ends of your hair, your mouth and your skin. It made you feel more present in the moment, grounded, as though the waters were ravenously stealing the salt from you, only to carry it back to the waves.

In between the crackle of the flames, you observe Finn stand up and greet you with a warm "Welcome, welcome ladies!" Your arm goes into a graceless wave, before Finn grabs it sturdily. "Clarke and Raven, this is everybody", he continues. He leads you around the fire with the intention of properly introducing you, but at the same time manages to disclose that the he only knows Jasper and Monty out of the group. They were his childhood friends and they were also the culprits to the many unknown faces surrounding the bonfire. Shortly after the brief introduction, the talks resumed. You feel at ease and welcome, yet due to the fact that you wanted to make a good impression, you avoid using anyone's name, feeling completely unsure whether it is the correct one or not.

You look around, picking an empty spot and, with your hand clutching the beer bottle, you sit down. As you are about to put your lips to the bottleneck, you hear a soft voice address you, "Cheers". In your peripheral vision you can see a drink being suspended in the air. "Cheers", you respond with a smile, as you follow the path up to a vaguely familiar face. As if she has a direct understanding of your thoughts, she stretches out her hand and reintroduces herself, "I'm Costia, remember? And you are Clarke, right?" You wonder why such an interesting name was not able to implant itself in your mind. "I am", you utter, "It's nice to meet you. Again".

Costia is beautiful, as well as vibrant, which makes you think that both of those traits are the reasons as to why you enjoy her company. You talk about moving to California, difficulty adapting, food and art. Costia also talks about her girlfriend. "She's in Chouette's class, as well! You'll, at least, have that in common once she decides to show up", she says with a hint of impatience. "Funny how it works", you declare with both Costia and Raven waiting for you to continue, "I just think it's interesting. You know, the probability of us having already met and, perhaps, even spoken to each other. But regardless, we have remained strangers. Until, a series of random events led me to tonight. And here we are. It's just interesting how it works." Costia seems to be taking in what you are saying, but you can always depend on Raven to express herself without filter, "Is there something more in your beer that you aren't sharing with the rest of us?"

Suddenly, Costia's movement is swift. She perches herself on the edge of her seat, before pushing off with her palms. She is elated when she speaks, "Finally". Her movement startles you, the tremor traveling to your hand, causing you to almost spill your drink. As you nonchalantly wipe at the few droplets that did manage to escape and cling to your jeans, you attempt to get a glimpse of the figure Costia is addressing. Your eyes widen in shock, sending a jolt of distress that instantaneously inhabits the bones of your ribs, hammering against your sternum. _Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck._ Raven, at times knowing you better than you know yourself, squeezes your leg gently and worriedly searches for your eyes. Without turning your head away, you whisper, "That's her, Ray. That's her." At the sound of surrender in your voice, Raven clasped her fingers around your arm and benevolently uttered, "Let's leave Clarke. We don't need to stay." You gave her a quick shake of the head, blonde strands of hair detaching from their spot behind your ear. Ultimately, there was nothing to feel deceived about. "It's neither of their fault, Ray", you reply. Therefore, you stay.

Costia, through threaded fingers, tugs at the girl, familiarizing her and making each new individual a little less unknown. You burrow your face into your palms and sigh your thoughts into them, _I'm fine. You're fine, Clarke._ At the sound of shifting sand, you peek through the gaps of your fingers, only to see a pair of feet settle in front of you as Costia gladly announces, "And this here is my new friend Clarke." You drop your hands to your sides, pushing yourself up. Your bones feel weak and you wonder how you have not collapsed under the heaviness of your hoarded emotions, once again clasping down on your lungs. You end up clenching your palms into fists, a well needed push to slowly meet her gaze. And once you do, holy fuck. _She is more wonderful than I remember._

"Clarke and I have met", she replies with the suggestion of a smile. Keeping in mind that you had been openly vulnerable with her earlier during the day, your interaction seemed more intimate. "Well…", Raven speaks, breaking the stillness and widening the gap between you and Lexa by grabbing her hand, "I'm Raven". She turns to you and speaks in a confirming tone, "Alcohol. I think alcohol is a wonderful idea. I'll go and get each of us a standardized bucket of it." And right before she leaves, she cups your shoulders and adds, "I will be right back, Clarke." The, _you will be fine,_ part goes unsaid.

As you are about to sit down, Costia pushes out, "And how do you enjoy school?" "I enjoy it", you say while making a slight pause, "Apart from the few humiliating moments that have taken place during class. In fact, that's how Finn and I met. During an excruciating moment in Chouette's class." By now Raven has returned and slithered next to you with a smirk on her face, as if it was the only barrier preventing her from embarrassing you. "Yeah, particularly excruciating because Clarke here", Raven nudges you lightheartedly, "was disappointed that she failed to make a good impression on… someone." And with that you sincerely wonder what would stop you from leaping at Raven's neck. You take a prolonged sip of your drink, as you shake your head, a gesture that was an attempt at dismissing your friend's words. You think that the longer you stay quiet, the quicker the moment will pass. _Calm down._

Costia puts her hand on your shoulder and through the ghost of a smile says, "You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to". You glance at her, feeling relieved and reassured, adding, "I can tell you the gruesome story of how I met Finn. And inadvertently Alexandria." With that, you begin to narrate, feeling as if the moment you were speaking of had taken place during a different lifetime. As if you had died a thousand deaths and lived a thousand lives between then and now.

Regardless of the situation you had found yourself in, you are enjoying your evening. The incessant laughter and unadulterated conversations were not fueled by the alcohol, although you suspect, the alcohol helped. Finn, who had joined your conversation about three beers earlier, speaks to everyone, but addresses you, "So, where did you end up going earlier today? You never came back to class." You whip your head towards the boy, as if he had managed to rip all your clothes off in one sentence, leaving you bare.

"I'm sorry", you manage to squeak out, knowing that you are lying. The truth is, you do not feel apologetic at all. "I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world", you reply as the boy's smile fades and is replaced with confusion, settling in the furrow of his brows. "It's from a novel", you state. Lexa is observing you with a flicker of recognition in her eyes. " _The Stranger_ ", you continue, "I just needed some peace of mind and I ended up wandering away. I'm sorry I made you wait." There is a brief pause, before words are uttered, "It takes the time it takes". Lexa's gaze does not waver from yours as her voice goes quiet and, ultimately, cold.

As the evening is coming to an end, you rise to your feet and proclaim, "Ladies, I need to go home and sleep this beer off." Raven nods in agreement, protectively looping her arm under yours. With your refusal of letting it go, the ensuing embrace that is shared between Finn and you is both awkward and reserved. However, when Costia throws her arms around your neck, you reciprocate fully by letting your arms encircle her back. You hug her hard, wanting to pour dozens of apologies into her body, as you feel overcome with guilt when the girl pulls away with a smile and says sweetly, "You _are_ a lightweight."

Your hands still resting on Costia, you face Lexa who seems distant and indifferent. Unsure of what to do, you let your arms fall to your sides and give the girl with the brown mane a nod. To your surprises, she closes the gap between you and, rigidly, encloses her arms around your waist. The embrace you are sharing now is vastly different from the one you had shared hours ago. _But you take whatever little she will give you._ You clasp your arms around her and murmur into her locks, "Thank you". You can hear her hesitate, but she ultimately decides to speak as she relaxes slightly in your hold, "Anytime… Camus."


	3. Chapter 3

_I will never be a morning person_ , you think in the waking hours of the morning. Reluctantly, you flutter your eyes open, attempting to dispose of the fatigue that is firmly holding on to your eyelashes and weighing them down. You feel as though all of the sleepless moments of the night had found their way into the crevices below your eyes and chosen that as their resting place. A grunt is released from the back of your throat, remembering that you had cluttered the dusk and dawn with thoughts of exchanged embraces and shared glances. Yet again, you groan at yourself, faintly agitated and frustrated at the weakness of your own heart and its eagerness to give in. You decide to rise and abandon it in the safety of your room.

The sound of clashing pans, hissing food and the occasional proclamation of the word _shit_ guides you to the kitchen. Raven is preparing breakfast with such an elegance, that you cannot help but wonder how she has not set fire to the apartment. "Good morning sunshine", she utters happily, before she turns her attention to the stove and continues, "I'd ask how you slept, but you look like shit." You mutter under your breath, feigning insult, as you walk over to the counter and prop yourself on your elbows.

Today was Saturday and you were immensely grateful for not being bound by academic responsibilities and obligations. You release a sigh and speak into your hands, "I'm meeting with Costia today." Despite the culinary commotion, Raven's thoughts are unspoken, yet audible. "Ray, trust me, I know. But I really like Costia and it's not her fault I'm a shit person." Raven takes out two plates and serves you the product of her efforts which, by the looks of it, you would not mind passing on. She turns her attention to you and says, "It's not like you're falling for Lexa on purpose, Clarke. And you never have to justify yourself with me. Just make sure that you have a good time." You take a bite of the food, it tasting similar to a compilation between rubber and cardboard. "You should come with. The more the merrier! Besides, I know Costia really liked you", you reply pleadingly. She nods back in response and spits out her food, "You probably shouldn't continue eating that". And suddenly, for more than one reason, you feel somewhat more enthusiastic about your day.

You were picking up Costia at her apartment. Impulsively you clench the steering wheel with sweaty palms. "For fucks sake, would you relax", Raven states with a roll of her eyes, "Just let go of whatever it is that you're feeling. I get it, it's not their fault, but it sure as hell isn't your fault either for the way you feel. It's just a crush and it'll go away if you give it time. Yes?" _Crush_ , you think to yourself. You taste the word in your mouth, but cannot help the impression that it does not match the budding feeling in your bones.

In the same instant, the door of the building opens and out walks a smiling Costia. To you she appears to be perpetually effervescent, a contagious quality that you adore about her. Her hand goes into a wave, before she swings it and prevents the door from closing. _Oh god_. "Now, let's calm down", Raven tries to state evenly, even though her voice hums with a muffled astoundment. Your heart clenches at the sight of brown locks spilling over shoulders and hurts a little when fingers entangle with Costia's. _I'm such a shit_. Raven lowers her hand on your leg and exhales a breath of concern, "See this as therapy. Seeing them like this will help you move the fuck on."

The girls walk up to the car, shuffle into the back seat and as they are putting on their seatbelts, both you and Raven greet them cheerfully. "Do you even have a plan of where we are going", Lexa asks while shifting her gaze between you and your friend. Her eyes on you feel too pleasant, therefore you avert your attention to the front of the car. As you turn the engine on, Raven proclaims, "I know the best food place. But it's in Santa Barbara..." An unspoken agreement lingers in the air as you push the gas pedal, rolling the car onto the road.

You have barely been driving for an hour, when you feel your eyelids begin to close with an ease. "I'm sorry guys", you state, "I have to pull over. Raven, would you mind driving?" Raven nods, as you take the next exit, finding a resting spot. All of you walk out of the car and stretch your arms into the warm air, as Costia closes the distance between you and clasps her arms around you. "I didn't get a chance to do this earlier", she speaks and continues with, "Hi". You counter by embracing her tightly, letting a smile fall out of your mouth, and through lidded eyes respond, "Hi there." "You didn't get much sleep last night", Costia's statement worded more like a question. "No. Is it that obvious?", you inquire while gesturing to your face. "Absolutely not", Costia replies without hesitation, "You are as beautiful as ever". _She is too thoughtful._ She lets go of you, walks up to Lexa and entangles her arm around her waist. Conflicted, you attempt to kill the creeping feeling that resembles jealousy, at the same time as you genuinely believe that the two of them belong with one another.

They were polar opposites in numerous ways, but they were the same in the one way where it counted the most, they were humans of the year _. You deserved neither of them._

Raven bridges the gap between you and protectively loops her arm around you, "Clarke has a lot on her mind." Lexa's gaze is warmly fixed on you, as she considers whether the things you had spoken about, under the protection of cracking branches and swaying leaves, were the same things that troubled you now. Not knowing how to respond to her thoughts, you simply shake your head and utter, "Nothing serious. Minor issues." Before the conversation has gained any type of momentum, Raven interrupts and motions to the car, "Shall we?"

Costia and Raven walk over to the driver side and enter the car, as you and Lexa stand motionless on the passenger side. You rest your arms on the roof of the car, while her hand is still on the door handle, anticipating you to speak. "It's a little bit of everything", you say barely above a whisper. She observes you with a gentleness, as equally tender words leave her mouth, "You can always go to the place that I showed you. It is yours." A thought begins to resonate against the walls of your temples. You know it well. And with intensifying remorse, you pretend not to hear it, _not without you._

As you collapse into your seat, Raven scrutinizes you with a complete lack of amusement. "Drive", you express sternly. "Your wish is my command, my queen", Raven states and adds, "You should try and catch up on sleep." Your ensuing nod ends in a tilt onto the window, weighed down by exhaustion.

"Clarke, wake up! It's just a nightmare!" You open your eyes, feeling disoriented and confused. It takes you a moment to comprehend that Lexa had managed to push herself between the seats, her hand clasped around your arm. She knows what you were dreaming about and it is that knowledge that keeps her hand on yours, even when the others have let go. Your eyes meet hers, "I'm okay". The lioness observes you with doubt, as you throw your hand on hers and proclaim, "I promise". It is here that you realize how comfortable it feels, your fingerprints marking the back of her hand. Embarrassed, you immediately recoil and release her hand from the weight of yours. "Do you want us to go back home?", Costia asks, her tone coated in concern. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble", rasps out of your mouth.

Your feelings are excessive and their burden lavish. _Wasteful amounts of sadness. Wasteful amounts of worry. But also, wasteful amounts of love._

You are apathetically sprawled out on the couch that same evening. Your hair, in equal measure, obscuring your face and the orange Cheetos stains covering your shirt. The blanket resting on your legs functions more as a napkin than anything else, as you carelessly wipe your hands on it. You were alone in the apartment, which would have suited you perfectly, if it was not for the fact that it would not last very long. Raven had taken precautionary measures and called someone to take her spot for the evening. Knowing that it was Octavia, you had begun drinking copious amounts of water, aware that she never comes without a whiskey bottle in tow.

The doorbell rings and you practically run towards it, excited to see your friend. As you swing the door open, a smile breaks free from your lips. "Hi", the girl sheepishly says, somewhat uncomfortable. You recoil slightly at the unexpected sight, " _Lexa_ …" "Raven called me. But I also needed to see how you were feeling considering what happened earlier today." You feel as though thousands of needles are prickling your insides, multiplying each time the realization washes over you that _she_ is here. "Come on in", you usher her.

Giving her enough time to take off her jacket, you lead her into the living room and apologize for the mess. "I know the apartment looks like shit. And I know I look like shit", you state. The girl only smiles and brushes her hair from her face, "You look like someone who wanted to be alone tonight." You relax in place as you wheeze out, "I'm actually very happy that you are here."

Both of you sink into the couch. Feeling slightly more self-conscious, you pull your hair back and latch the curls behind your ear. It quickly dawns on you that you had just wiped the orange off of your fingers and into the golden of your hair. "Wonderful", you squeak and turn to Lexa, inquiring fretful, "How bad is it?" She drags her gaze from your eyes to your hair with a slight tilt of the head, as she reaches out with her hand and pulls gently at the golden strands. "It is not bad at all. If you have a craving for snacks later tonight, you know where to look", she speaks through a poorly contained smile. "You are so ill-informed", you reply with a grin, "I never wait for food". With that, you unhitch your hair and pretend to consume it, declaring to the girl, "You are welcome to join me in the feast. There's plenty to go around". Lexa responds with a laughter that practically foams at her mouth, "I am famished!" _And you cannot help but wish that you had met her first._

The night seeps in and you become mindful of the fact that this moment is coming to an end. You whip your head towards the girl, with your hand mimicking the motion and landing on her arm, "You are leaving soon". The statement worded as a question. She murmurs, before her lips open and she responds, "I do. It is getting late."

In one cohesive motion, you rise to your feet and begin to fold the blanket that had been covering you, gesturing towards the girl, "Fold that one too. We are going to need it." The way her head angles and eyes dim propels you to speak further, "I have a present for you. It's not far from here and I'd like to give it to you tonight, before you leave. As a thank you." You push your hands towards your chest, "If that's alright?" While looking at you, she silently thrusts herself up and begins to fold the cover, "It is quite alright."

You drive, despite it being Lexa's car. A perpetual smile was imprinted in the cracks of your lips, tugging at the strings below your ribcage. And each time you would glance at the body sloped in the seat next to you, the strings would tense and vibrate in tune. You take the next exit and follow the curvy road up the mountain. "Almost there", you declare, while rolling down your window. The hum of the freeway was long gone and in its stead, silence and the smell of pine trees filled the inside of the car. You savored the taste of spring as it heaved its way to your lungs. You carefully glimpse towards Lexa, who had propped her entire upper body onto the open window and through closed eyes spoke into the nocturnal air, "This alone would have made a wonderful gift, Clarke."

Not long after, you turn onto a wide and empty piece of land. You park the car and exit, while motioning for her to follow you. You lead her to a lonely, wooden bench, perched almost on the edge of the rock face, overlooking the city. You are surrounded by the rawness of nature, the smell of trees, dirt and rocks suspended in the air. "This is very beautiful", she utters. You simply nod, allowing the lingering silence to heighten the beauty of the moment.

After a little while you speak quietly, attempting not to damage the serenity that had encircled you, "This isn't what I wanted to show you." You stretch out the palm of your hand, as she hesitantly clasps her fingers around it and allows you to guide her. You walk back to the car and standing in front of it, you stretch out one of the blankets on the ground. Laying down, you gently tug at her arm to do the same, but say, "Keep your eyes closed". She releases a breath of surrender as she imitates your motion and does as instructed. When you are both still, your back on the rough ground, you whisper, "And now, open your eyes." The sharp breath that enters her mouth is instantly released, accompanied by the words, " _Amazing_ , Clarke."

It was a clear night. The sky cluttered with stars, varying in different sizes. Some were brighter than others, yet each leaving an imprint in the darkness. _So many of them_. The wonderment at the vastness of the sky above, made you feel unbounded. And knowing that you were rooted in this moment with her, made you feel resolved. Yes, the beautiful monstrosity above was too preoccupied with creating new celestial beings, while devouring others, to acknowledge two bodies laying below it. But you knew that, at this point in time, you and she had created a ripple in time where, for a brief moment, your paths had merged into one. And whether the stars would admit to seeing you there, sprawled in the dirt, did not matter to you. "This is what I wanted to give you", you breathe, "The sky." She is quiet, but she grips your hand harder as she whispers, "Thank you for my souvenir, _Clarke_."

You find yourself in the car once again, driving back home. You continuously tap your index finger against the steering wheel, experiencing an internal debate. Finally, you decide to speak, "I have one last thing I'd like to share with you". You can feel the spark lighting behind your eyes, confirming that there is no better person to divulge what you are about to explain. With your free hand, you point towards the planes in the distance, preparing to land, "They have to cross the freeway fairly close", you pause allowing the girl to take in your words, "So, how would you like to chase airplanes with me?" Lexa releases a laughter, "And how exactly do we do that?" You proceed by rolling down all of the windows, the air rapidly flowing in and out. "We too need to feel as though we are flying", you yell, "You have to do the work though, since I'm driving." Both of you smiling as she stubbornly tries to brush her curls away from her face to better meet yours. You continue, "Pretty much we are going to try to get right under the plane as it crosses the freeway and _you_ are going to catch it with your hand. It's fun! _Trust me_!"

With that, you slightly increase the speed and instruct her to choose a distant, but approaching dot. As she points towards one, you raise the volume of the music and yell to her, "Now, put your arm out! Have fun! Remember, you too are flying!" The cyclone in the car twists in your hair, strands cascading, the music drumming, as Lexa stretches her arm out and closes her eyes. "We are going to miss it", she yells through laughter. Her entire demeanor makes your lips expand into a smile, "Have some faith!" You cannot help but feel utterly complete, observing her open palm in the air, reaching towards the sky. "Now!", the word sharp, as she turns her attention towards the night above, and stretches her open hand towards the massive, steel giant, passing over you. When it is gone, she leans back into the car, "Fuck! I almost had it! How can I go home without my own airplane?" And you knew that you were going home with something much, _much_ , better.

You park the car in front of your apartment complex. When you exit, Lexa's stride is quick as she walks over to you and tugs you into her arms. She pulls away slightly, while her hands still rest on your arms, "I am lost for words, Clarke." You reciprocate with a smile, despite the constant shifting of your weight from one foot to the other, "My debt is repaid". " _Plentiful_ ", the word gently bouncing off of her tongue. "Thank you only goes so far", you declare.

She looks at you softly, faintly squeezing your arms, unsure of what else to do or say. And you wish you could hold her. _Lexa. Lexa. Lexa. Lexa_. The drumming familiar and absolute. Reluctantly you untangle your arms, as her face turns somber, "I have to leave. I'm sure Costia is waiting for me." _What am I doing?_ And before she gets in the car she gives you one last glance, "I will be looking for you in the stars, Clarke." You point towards the darkness above and croak more seriously than you intended, "By that star is where I'll be waiting."


End file.
